Still, there were things to consider. For fifteen years, Dylan and Brandy had lived with neither husband nor father. To have one reappear after such a long absence was bound to cause comment. Then, of course, there were the Angels, who were still Dylan's family. They deserved to know, deserved an explanation. For a few days, he stayed hidden away inside the house with his girls, his loved ones, getting used to their ways, getting to feel safe. Then, and only then, did Dylan ask her friends to come see her.
When they arrived that evening, he and Brandy were sitting in her room. He could hear their voices coming from the living room. "You have to tell us!" Natalie said, her high voice bright as birdsong. "Something's definitely up with you. You're… you're glowing."
Dylan must have made some protesting sound, because when Alex spoke, her voice was low and dry. "Trust me, you're glowing," she said. There was a burst of laughter, sweet and happy. He found himself shaking again, and Brandy gripped his hand. He had fought them once, had been their enemy. They had no reason to accept him now.
"There's someone…"
"I knew it!" Natalie cried, delighted. More laughter.
"There's someone who wants to see you." But there was discomfort in Dylan's voice, mixed with the happiness. She was worried, too. For a moment, he was not sure he had the strength to stand. He knew that he had made a mistake, that this could never work, that he should go, out the window… Brandy squeezed his hand, and he turned to look at her. No, he couldn't abandon her again. Not now. He leaned on her as they stood and went down the hallway to the living room.
The happy, open faces of Natalie and Alex went wary and dark as he and Brandy entered the room. "The Thin Man," Alex said, and he stared down at his shoes. He should not have come. He didn't deserve this life, didn't deserve their trust or anyone's. It would have been better if he had gone away years ago and never come back.
"That's not his name," Dylan said, her voice shaking with some barely-controlled passion.
"Anthony?" Natalie asked, and the sweet, shy hesitancy of her voice compelled him to look at her. She was studying him, head cocked, bright blue eyes sharp. "The nuns said they called you Anthony. Is that your name?"
He nodded, feeling his daughter's firm grip on his hand, giving him strength. For years now, he had existed without any sort of a name at all. He invented them when he needed them, then discarded them when he was done. Anthony was as good as anything, and better than most. It had, after all, been given to him for a reason.
Alex was not convinced; she folded her arms and leaned back on the sofa, dark eyes narrowing. "I don't understand this," she said, and he dropped his eyes again. "What is he doing here?"
"He's here because of us," Dylan said. "Because of Brandy and myself." Brandy said nothing, but slipped her arm around his waist, leaning into him. So tall she was. Already taller than her mother, and strong and slender.
"Dylan told us," Natalie said. He knew, without looking, that she was speaking directly to him. "She told us that you had been following her, visiting her. She told us that Brandy was your daughter. But you disappeared, and never came back. Why did you go? Did something happen?"
"I…" The first word came out so quietly that he himself could scarcely hear it. He moistened his lips with his tongue and tried again. "I was… afraid."
He glanced up to see Alex and Natalie openly staring at one another. They had never heard his voice before. "You remember during the H.A.L.O. case, when I ran away," Dylan said, picking up the story for him. "Seamus threatened to hurt you, and I… panicked."
Dawning comprehension on Natalie's face. "Someone threatened to hurt Dylan," she said.
He shook his head, sweeping his gaze from Natalie to Alex to Dylan, and then back again. "They threatened to hurt all of us?" Alex asked, her voice softening for the first time. He nodded, suddenly miserable. "So you went away, trying to keep us safe."
"He didn't know I was pregnant," Dylan explained, giving him a brief, unreadable glance. "I didn't know I was pregnant at the time."
"You went away," Natalie said, and he could feel the heat of her gaze, feel it like she was reading his mind, "but you couldn't stay away. You had to keep checking on her, to make sure that she was safe."
"You've been watching them all this time," Alex finished. The girls sank back into the sofa, lovely faces unusually thoughtful, studying him. He didn't dare to look at them for very long, but stood, head bowed, hands clasped in front of him, like a schoolboy waiting for punishment. Finally, Alex spoke again. "Dylan, he's a killer."
"Not…" It was hard for him to make the words come. He bit his lip, took a deep breath, and tried again. "Not anymore."
"I did some research," Dylan added. "The last killing that fits the Thin Man profile happened almost seventeen years ago. Four members of Tanaka Yakuza were found dead in a car three blocks from my old apartment." He watched her stride away from him, barefoot and confident, and pick a manila envelope up from the coffee table. It was battered, looked to be at least a few years old. How long had she been investigating him? She came back, handed the envelope to Alex. "These were found in the car."
Alex and Natalie looked at one another, eyebrows up. Finally, Alex opened the envelope and slid the pictures out. There was still a spot of blood on the corner of one of the photographs. He didn't have to see them to know what they were. He'd already seen them once. Alex handed the pictures to Natalie without a single word.
"So I went back further into the records. After he killed Emmers, the Thin Man pretty much fell off the face of the Earth. The only killings that could have anything to do with him appear to have happened in connection with cases that we were working on. Remember the Layne kidnapping?"
Natalie shook her head, still staring at the photographs she held in her trembling hands. "How could I forget? I would've died if someone hadn't taken that sniper out at the last second."
Alex's arms came unfolded, and her wary expression softened into thoughtfulness. "The Raskolnikov Case," she said. "They hit me from behind, knocked me unconscious. When I came to, they were gone."
He saw the question unasked in her eyes, and nodded. He remembered it well. He remembered the sniper, too. He remembered all of them.
"There were eight, altogether," Dylan said. "Eight times when one or all of us should have died, but somehow survived. Then the Yakuza. Then nothing for seventeen years. That's a long time."
Natalie slid the pictures back into the envelope, staring off into the distance. Though she scarcely seemed to have aged at all when she smiled, her solemnity showed the wisdom time had given her. "You protected all of us," she said. "You were our enemy."
All he could do was shrug. He had been their enemy, that was true. But things had changed since then. He had changed since then.
"I know that we were enemies once," Dylan said, "and I know that this is hard for you, but I really, really need to feel like you're okay with this. You're my family. But Anthony…" She drifted over to his other side, reached out and clasped his hand. "Anthony is my family, too."
The long silence that ensued was broken, as usual, by Natalie. "You're right. I mean, it is hard. I mean, it's not hard exactly, but it's… it's weird. But if you're sure about this, Dylan, that's all that matters."
He glanced at Dylan, caught her swallowing back tears. "I'm sure," she said.
Alex shook her head. "Still falling for the bad guy," she muttered. And had Natalie not playfully punched Alex in the shoulder, and Dylan not broken into a wide grin, he might have thought that she had decided not to trust him after all. But, apparently, she had.
At a nudge from Brandy, he let go of his girls and took a few steps forward, holding out his hand. Alex took his hand cordially enough, but there was still a certain suspicion in her dark eyes. Natalie, however, bypassed the handshake in favor of a hug and a warm kiss on the cheek. "Welcome to the family, Anthony," she said.
Still, he felt the faint current of unease between them, and suspected he would feel it for a long time. And, when he was honest with himself, he knew that they really had no reason to trust him. So he resolved himself to be patient, and tried very hard to be good. In time, perhaps, they would come to accept him.
For some time, the Angels were the only visitors to Dylan's house. She knew that he was not accustomed much to society, and was careful not to stress him unduly. It was hard enough for him to get used to living with other people, dealing with their clothes on the floor and their messes in the kitchen. He'd never shared his bed with anyone else. But he was desperately eager to please, and this, combined with the wonder he felt in being allowed to see and touch and hear his daughter and his Dylan every day, helped to smooth things over.
About a fortnight after the Angels' first visit, Max Bosley came. The boy was now a man, of course, his features no longer soft, but his head was still crowned with a mop of curly hair. He gave Anthony a strange look when he entered, almost but not quite recognizing him. "Dylan?" he asked.
"Max," she said, trying to smile. "I want you to meet Anthony."
Max stepped forward, shook hands. He had a good grip. His eyes were more skeptical now, but Anthony could still see the boy in the face of the man. "It's a pleasure."
"We used to call him the Thin Man," Alex prompted, when it became clear that Max hadn't quite put all the pieces together.
"The Thin Man." Max repeated the words in a soft voice, almost like he was praying. He studied Anthony's face for a moment. "You saved my life." Anthony dropped his eyes, shrugging helplessly.
"I don't understand this," Max said. "I thought… I mean, no one's seen him since he fell off the roof during the H.A.L.O case."
"Well, that's not exactly true," Dylan said. "I… saw him a few times after that. Then he vanished again, and I didn't see him for over sixteen years."
Unlike some of the other Bosleys, Max was sharp, quick. He made the connection immediately. "You're Brandy's father," he said, and Anthony nodded again. "I've seen you." This made Anthony look up, startled. "After Mother Superior died. You came to the Mass, and you sat in the very last pew. You knew all the responses, but you didn't take Communion." Max was indeed observant. Although Anthony had contemplated accepting the Host, out of respect for Mother Superior, he had, at the last second, decided against it. It wasn't right for one so full of sin to receive the Body and the Blood of Christ. So he stayed in his pew. "You were at the burial, too, but you stayed away from us, at another grave."
He'd gone to her grave only after everyone else was gone. He hadn't wept, but it was hard. She'd always been so busy, running the orphanage and the order, but she'd always made time for him, the thin, shy, sullen child, the one who never spoke. She had given him a name.
Max watched him for a long moment, shaking his head in amazement. "So… So you're back. Are you staying? I mean…" He laughed, but it wasn't funny. "I guess I'm still a little bit confused."
"He's back," Dylan said, reaching out for Anthony's hand. He twined his fingers in hers, grateful for her silent support. "And he's staying. I wanted you to know."
"Well." Max collapsed on the sofa, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Thanks. I mean, I know you guys felt for a long time like you couldn't tell me things, and maybe you couldn't. I mean, I was only a kid. But I'm glad that you're telling me now." He sighed. "Of course, it's different for me. Anthony saved my life. It's not like… The other Angels, I mean. You did tell them, didn't you?"
"I did," Dylan said.
"And they're okay? I mean, they're not going to…"
"Everything's fine, Max," she said, her voice very gentle.
"Okay. Okay." Max laughed again; it was a little nervous, but it had something more of humor in it than previously. "You don't talk much, do you?" he asked, glancing up at Anthony, who only shrugged. "Isn't it hard? Like, how do you order at restaurants? Do you just point at the menu, or what?"
As Anthony struggled to find some sort of answer to this question, he heard Dylan starting to giggle. He knew now that the worst was over. He had been accepted into their family, unusual though it was.